


Forgotten

by CaptainSaku



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSaku/pseuds/CaptainSaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has forgotten him, and it hurts. Oneshot drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I received a meme prompt over at my Garrus RP blog (theroguesniper). This is the result.
> 
> Send “Who are you?” and my muse will re-introduce themselves to your muse after yours has been in an accident and is suffering from amnesia.

They say that words can hurt more than anything in the world. In the right hands, under the right pen, when used by the right person, words can be the deadliest of weapons. 

Garrus had always been rather skeptical about this particular saying. There was no way a word, or perhaps a phrase, could even be comparable to getting shot. To coming close to death. 

He had been wrong. Hell, he had been  _so_  wrong.

_Who are you?_  

The words cut deep into him, wounded him more than any bullet he had ever taken. She didn’t know him. She didn’t remember him. She didn’t remember  _any_  of it—of _them_. 

All those shared kisses, all those nights together, their jokes and quips, their friendship… _everything_. Gone. Just like that. Lost entirely to her memory as he had thought her entirely lost to him.

It was like watching the unrecognizing look on his mother’s face all over again. 

His eyes stung, his throat ached, there was a knot at the pit of his stomach and his world was crashing down around him. After everything they’d been through, after putting an end to the war, after they had  _found_  her, burned and battered and bruised and broken but  _alive_ … he had thought it was all over. He had thought they could finally catch a break, take a year of leave, have a go at  _normal_. Apparently not. 

He swallowed it all down, pushed his feelings back and locked it all in a deep and cavernous area of his brain, one he couldn’t reach until he was alone, with his thoughts as his only companions. Carefully, he rearranged his face into a friendly expression, teased his mandibles into unsnapping from his face. A mask. 

All of this, this process, took less than a second. She couldn’t see. He couldn’t let her see. That he was coming undone at the seams, that he couldn’t handle this development, that he could have cried, given the chance. 

“Forgive the intrusion, ma’am, I am aware that you are still in recovery.” He said, each word weighed and carefully calculated. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “Garrus Vakarian. We—"  _were in love once_  “—we worked together on the Normandy.” 

All that was left for him now was to hope. Perhaps, if he hoped hard enough, if he clung to the belief that her memory could come back to her, just the way she had shown him that there was always hope, perhaps her memory  _would_  come back. 

A terrible thing, hope. Especially in a broken, hopeless man.


End file.
